Transporting and re-inventing conflicts: Conflict-generated diasporas and conflict autonomisation

Abstract

Like other types of diaspora groups, conflict-generated diasporas display a strong attachment to their countries of origin, and structure their identities and ideologies around discourses referring to their homeland. However, their inner cleavages, born out of the conflicts raging in their home countries, can run very deep. The maintenance of their ethnic, religious, linguistic or political divisions even generations after the migration process has taken place sometimes leads to conflict transportation processes, whereby the conflicts raging in their home countries are reproduced and maintained in countries of settlement. Incidents opposing rival diaspora groups are thus often interpreted as a prolongation or reproduction of core conflicts raging in their regions of origin. Against this assumption, this article argues that if transported conflicts often formally take the shape of core conflicts, and emulate them by using the same language, symbols and ethnic/religious/linguistic categories, they are also deeply transformed by the migration process itself. In this perspective, this article explores the transformation and reinvention of conflict-generated diasporas’ politics, and proposes to look at the autonomisation processes they display vis-à-vis the core conflicts, in terms of content but also of objectives, ultimately generating a drift at the political and organisational levels.

Keywords

Autonomisation conflict diasporas migration nationalism

Conflict-generated diasporas, ‘networks of those forced across borders by conflict or repression’ (Lyons, 2007: 530), lie at the crossroads of various fields of study, which have difficulty learning from one another. While conflict studies often focus on the role of conflict-generated diasporas in escalation and de-escalation processes in their countries of origin (among others, Koinova, 2011; Shain, 2002; Smith and Stares, 2007), migration studies often prefer to look at their integration (or lack thereof) in countries of settlement, transnational activities and remaining links (e.g. sending of remittances, organisational ties, etc.) with their countries of origin (see for instance Bauböck and Faist, 2010; Castles and Davidson, 2000; Vertovec, 2009). The fact that both processes might be connected, namely that conflict-generated diasporas’ integration in countries of settlement has an impact on their involvement with conflicts in countries of origin, and vice versa, has not yet been the focus of much scholarly work. This article aims at bridging this gap by showing how integration processes and relations with countries of origin, deeply influence diasporas’ political activities and more specifically divisions existing within diaspora groups. Relations within conflict-generated diasporas, say, relations between Kurds and Turks living in Germany, or between Rwandan Hutus and Rwandan Tutsis living in Belgium, are often read through the lenses of politics of their countries of origin. One of the aims of this article is to demonstrate that even though tensions arising within and between diasporas originating from conflict zones often put on the clothes of the ‘core conflict’ raging in their countries of origin, other stakes and issues related to their situation in the country of settlement, are at play.

The concept of diaspora is a much-debated one, with authors putting the stress on various key definitional elements, such as the maintenance of links with the country of origin, or the existence of an initial ‘trauma’ at the roots of the migration process. Keeping in mind Demmers’ warning about the risks of constructing our definition of diaspora as an ideal-type (Demmers, 2002: 89), this article relies loosely on Safran’s definition of the concept of diaspora putting the stress on some core features (Safran, 1991: 83–84): a voluntary or involuntary dispersion; a collective memory and myth about the homeland; a troubled relationship with the country of settlement; a commitment to the homeland’s safety and prosperity; the presence of the issue of return, though not necessarily a commitment to do so; and finally a diasporic consciousness and solidarity that can be expressed through the creation of diaspora organisations. This last point is particularly important because, as explained by Sökefeld (2006: 267), ‘Migrants do not necessarily form a Diaspora but they may become a Diaspora by developing a new imagination of community, even many years after the migration took place’. From that perspective, groups of migrants may constitute a diaspora if, with time, they develop these organisational and imaginative elements upon which a common identity can develop. By bringing together objective and subjective elements, the term ‘diaspora’ thus points at collective actors whose actions have both a symbolic and concrete transnational dimension (Cohen, 2008). It does not mean, though, that members of diasporas who are active in their country of settlement are necessarily active in their country of origin, or vice versa. It does not imply either that all individual members of diasporas display a high, or even moderate, level of activity in their country of settlement, or in their home country. In fact, it should be recalled that no diaspora group is homogeneous. As we will further explore, all diasporas display a striking internal diversity, at political, social, economic and cultural levels, and just like in countries of origin, moderates and radicals cohabit. This inherent diversity prevents any abusive generalisation, as some diaspora members are highly politicised, while others are most certainly not. But as often occurs, attention is drawn to those individuals who are the most active and vocal; we should keep in mind that those are not necessarily the most representative of the group. Among members of diaspora groups, Shain (2007: 130) has thus distinguished between core members (organising elites), passive members (available for mobilisation when called upon), and silent members (generally uninvolved, but potentially active in time of crisis). As we will see, mobilisation patterns within diaspora groups may be influenced by a series of factors, amongst which the size of the diaspora, the political situation in the country of origin (stable or unstable, escalatory/de-escalatory/conflict resolution phase, etc.), but also by generational, economic, social or other situational factors.

Diasporas originating from war-torn countries do not seem to be of a different nature than other types of diasporas, save the fact that their inner divisions can run very deep, far beyond the moderate/radical cleavage, actually forbidding their analysis as a single group (Adamson, 2005; Lyons, 2007). Another complexity that they display is that some diasporas commonly labelled as ‘conflict-generated’ actually include members who have migrated before the core conflict erupted, thus implying deep differences in terms of direct experience of violence. They are, as Pnina Werbner has put it, ‘chaordic’ (Werbner, 2002). Few scholars would argue, for instance, that it is possible to analyse ‘the’ Rwandan diaspora as a unitary entity. Ethnic, religious, linguistic or political divisions constitutive of the conflict situation do not disappear in the migration process, and are often maintained – though in a somewhat distorted fashion, as we shall see – in the country of settlement. The maintenance of these divisions can even become essential when different ‘sides’ of a core conflict migrate to the same countries, cities, or even neighbourhoods. These divisions may also entail, as they indeed do in the country of origin, differences in access to funding, legitimacy, mobilisation or economic opportunities, available to the various constitutive sections of the diaspora. In that sense, the politics of conflict-generated diasporas display a fascinating complexity, which often challenges the commonly held views on diaspora politics.

Is it possible to provide a framework for analysing and understanding the reproduction, maintenance or potential disappearance of cleavages cutting across conflict-generated diasporas? Like other types of diaspora groups, conflict-generated diasporas display a symbolic attachment to their countries of origin, and structure their identities and ideologies around discourses referring to their homeland and to respective important historical events and personalities. They also often put a lot of stress on their inner divisions and cleavages, carefully reproducing, at the discursive level in particular, the conflicts raging in their countries of origin. However at the same time, and contrary to representations often conveyed in media reports, political discourses and even academic literature, their patterns of mobilisation seem to be at least as much related to what is happening in their respective countries of settlement than to events occurring in their countries of origin. The approach developed in this article is therefore to understand conflict-generated diasporas’ politics neither as a product of the politics in countries of settlement or in countries of origin, but to consider that through the migration process they undergo a process that I call autonomisation. In other words, transported conflicts are neither a faithful reproduction of conflicts raging in countries of origin nor completely detached from them (Féron, 2013). In cases where the core conflict configuration is reproduced in the diaspora setting – that is, when core conflict adversaries migrate to the same places – the core conflict continues to provide a frame for structuring diaspora politics. In parallel however, a process of autonomisation is at play, provoking a detachment vis-à-vis the core conflict, in terms of content but also of objectives, unveiling a drift in terms of political but also organisational aims. To put it differently, the transported conflict often mimics the core conflict, but entails different stakes, values and objectives. This implies that to understand how these diasporas mobilise, cluster or oppose to one another, we have not just to reconcile traditions in migration studies and peace and conflict studies, but also to take seriously the specificity of these diasporas themselves.

Starting from the existing literature on conflict-generated diasporas that mostly interprets diaspora politics through the conflict transportation/importation grid, this article highlights its shortcomings and incompleteness, and explains how an analytical framework based on the concept of autonomisation opens up new avenues for understanding and researching conflict-generated diasporas. The article builds notably on empirical examples developed in the existing literature, as well as on the ethnographic fieldwork that I have been conducting for the past eight years, especially among diaspora groups in the United Kingdom, France and Belgium.

Conflict-generated diasporas and conflict transportation

It has often been pointed out that conflict-generated diasporas can generate tensions in countries of settlement, as people who flee a conflict raging in their country of origin can bring the conflict with them, in one way or another, even when they strongly want to leave it behind. They might facilitate instability in the place of settlement. Such processes have sometimes been described as ‘conflict transportation’ or ‘conflict importation’. However, the fact that conflict transportation does not always happen must be underscored, and ‘long distance nationalism’ is certainly a lot less full of meaning than often assumed (Féron, 2013).

Conflict-generated diasporas, long-distance nationalism and conflict transportation

Most analyses of conflict-generated diasporas’ politics have given birth to Manichean accounts, whereby diasporas are generally seen as peace-wreckers motivated by long-distance nationalism, or, significantly less often, as peace-makers interested in solving the conflict raging in their home country (Østergaard-Nielsen, 2006; Smith and Stares, 2007). The (interchangeable) concepts of conflict importation or transportation belong to the first of these two traditions, and have attracted some academic interest over the past decades (Demmers, 2002). ‘Importation’ or ‘transportation’ of conflict can describe two (possibly interrelated) types of situations: when members of groups fighting in the country of origin carry on the fight in the country of settlement at the discursive, symbolic or material levels (e.g. riots between members of rival ethnic groups); or when a diaspora group, through its (perceived) conflict-related activities in the country of settlement and/or in its home country, creates tension either within the country of settlement, or between the country of settlement and the country of origin. Simply put, the notion of conflict transportation pertains to the fact that core conflicts – that is, conflicts raging in the diasporas’ countries of origin – still frame and structure diaspora relations in the countries of settlement. This is what Jolle Demmers has called the ‘delocalisation’ or ‘deterritorialisation’ of conflict dynamics, whereby diasporas ‘live their conflicts through the internet, email, television, and telephone without direct (physical) suffering, risks, or accountability’ (Demmers, 2002: 94). Not all transported conflicts are violence-free, though, and there are many historical and contemporary examples of ‘transported’ or ‘imported’ conflicts that have induced a lot of suffering and violence. Such is the case of the so-called ‘café wars’ when rival Algerian groups – pro or anti-independence – clashed in France during the Algerian war, and which resulted in around 5,000 casualties. More recently, clashes between Kurdish and Turkish diaspora groups living in Belgium, Germany, the Netherlands, France and other European countries, though rarely lethal, have been at the centre of media attention.¹ There are also occasional clashes between communities of South Asian origin in London and other British cities, especially during religious festivals, or in the aftermath of cricket matches. The examples are plentiful, and though they usually receive extensive media coverage, they are not always well understood.

It appears that conflict can be transported at three main levels, though most of the time conflict transportation occurs at one or two of these levels only. The most frequent type of conflict transportation is political, discursive and symbolic, and includes the use of verbal and symbolic violence, whereby the stress is put on traditional and ‘cleaving’ values and symbols. These symbols are displayed during public events like demonstrations and commemorations, but they can also be used in community-based publications and communication, in political parties’ leaflets, and so on. In this perspective, cultural activities are particularly divisive. For instance, every year in London on 9 July members of the Greek Cypriot diaspora celebrate the 1821 uprising in Cyprus, while on 21 July members of the Turkish diaspora celebrate the ‘Turkish Peace Operation of 1974’ (labelled invasion by Greek Cypriots). Symbolic violence sometimes also entails the desecration and vilification of important symbolic elements for the ‘other’ diaspora group, like flags or religious images. These symbolic and discursive displays of opposition rarely escalate into open violence, even when the conflict in the country of origin is at its peak. However, this symbolic and discursive transportation of conflict entails the maintenance of cleavages and barriers between diaspora communities.

Conflict can also be transported at the social level, with high rates of endogamy, spatial segregation, and a general lack of social contact between rival groups. Endogamy is often thought to be central to the preservation of diaspora groups, as shown by Moliner in the case of Sikh–Muslim relations in Britain, where many Sikhs expressed their fear of ‘our girls being taken away by Muslims’ (Moliner, 2007: §42–43). Residential segregation is also very common. In Belgium for instance, members of the Rwandan Hutu diaspora are mostly living in some specific parts of Brussels like Matongé or in Flemish towns like Termonde, Verviers or Dendermonde, whereas the Rwandan Tutsi diaspora mostly inhabits Brussels’ city centre. In that sense, social avoidance is a reliable indicator of the transportation and maintenance of the core conflict in the country of settlement.

Finally, conflict can be transported at the physical level, with the use of violence by one or several diaspora groups, from violent assault, to demonstrations and to interethnic/interreligious clashes. As illustrated above, such episodes of physical violence are, for instance, not exceptional in the case of the Turkish and Kurdish diasporas in Germany, France or the Netherlands. This importation of physical violence into diaspora settings is however comparatively rare, even when tensions in the countries of origin are simmering. It has also to be underscored that not all core conflicts are transported, and that there are many instances where conflict-generated diasporas seem to live alongside peacefully in countries of settlement. Many elements can play the role of mitigating factors, starting with diasporas’ internal diversity, and with the potential cultural, linguistic or religious overlap across diaspora groups. As underscored by Mohammed-Arif (2007: §38–45), it is also not uncommon to see some diaspora members trying to de-escalate these transported conflicts.

Determinants of conflict transportation

Existing literature has highlighted several factors that seem to play a role in conflict transportation, and that determine the characteristics and evolution of diaspora groups’ identities. These factors are usually divided between endogenous (related to the country of settlement) or exogenous (related to the country of origin), and have often been at the core of opposing theoretical and empirical approaches. An examination of diaspora groups’ politics however demonstrates that all these factors play a role in conflict transportation, and that it is their subtle interplay that explains whether conflict is transported or not, and if yes, its shape.

The first of these factors relates to the process of migration itself. As has been amply studied by migration scholars (see for instance Faist, 2000; Papastergiadis, 1997), migration can be highly unsettling and disorientating to both groups and individuals because of the radical uprooting it entails. Migrants in general, and members of diaspora groups among them, find themselves in a new, unfamiliar and challenging political, cultural, social and economic setting, where competencies and assets, among other factors, are defined, valued and evaluated in a very different way. As such, migration often generates a sense of identity insecurity, which can be deepened if marginalisation, discrimination and racism are experienced in the countries of settlement. This in turn generates a redefinition of group and individual self-perceptions and identities, often in the direction of a rediscovery of, or overinvestment in, one’s roots and origins. For conflict-generated diasporas, core conflict divisions in the country of origin can thus become key structuring elements of group and individual identities, and conflict transportation allows for the maintenance of the group’s identity and cohesion in an environment which is generally perceived as unfriendly or even hostile. In that sense, violent manifestations of the group’s identity are not necessarily geared against members of the other community but as ways of maintaining and reaffirming the community’s boundaries, as in the case of London South Asian gangs (Bhatt, 1997: 269).

The second factor highlighted in the existing literature, especially the one focusing on ‘long distance nationalism’ (see for instance Anderson, 1992; Skrbiš, 1999), is that of the country of origin. What seems of specific importance here is whether diaspora communities retain strong cultural or material ties with their country of origin or not. For instance, some sending countries have set up instruments, agencies and policies in order to ‘control’ or ‘tap’ their diasporas at a distance, like Rwanda for instance (Turner, 2013). These instruments help in maintaining structural links, channelling the flow of remittances, but also controlling the expression of political opinions, and so on. In some instances, countries of origin fund cultural activities in order to maintain traditional diasporas’ cultural identities, but links can also be ensured via transnational political organizations, like in the case of the Vishwa Hindu Parishad which supports the establishment of a Hindu state in India (Mukta, 2000). Existing research has also shown how ‘long distance nationalism’ among conflict-generated diasporas can be fed by strong feelings related to the country of origin, like longing, nostalgia, but also hatred or resentment, and of course traumatic memories. But current events in the home country can also have an impact on diaspora politics, for instance the occurrence of highly escalating or de-escalating events, and provoke conflict transportation or trigger the escalation of an already transported conflict. As a consequence, mobilisation and identification with the home country, or with one of the ‘sides’ in a core conflict can occur several years or decades after migration has taken place. In the case of the Kashmiri Muslims, it is the insurgency of 1989 in Kashmir that led many Muslims originating from Azad Kashmir (Pakistan-administered part of Kashmir) to identify as part of the Kashmiri diaspora. The same process happened in 1984 for members of the Sikh diaspora, after the Indian Army’s intervention against the Golden Temple in Amritsar (Moliner, 2007), or in 1980 for members of the Kurdish diaspora after the coup in Turkey (Van Bruinessen, 1998). More generally, politics in the country of origin have been shown to have an impact on diasporas’ identities and relations. In particular, the salience and type of the core conflict are often reflected in diasporas’ mobilisation and political activities, and decisions taken by home governments undoubtedly influence diaspora groups’ relations.

Another important factor, which has been at the core of numerous publications in the field of migration studies, is the country of settlement itself. This ‘endogenous’ factor is quite logically assumed to be key for understanding diaspora politics. Among the multiple ways in which the countries of settlement can influence conflict transportation, the economic opportunity structure and access to labour market for diaspora communities seem to play a central role, and past research has shown that a lack of integration often leads to the reactivation of biographical experiences. One potential consequence is that discrimination might lead young members of diaspora groups, who have no experience or prior interest in the conflicts in their countries of origin to invest in their ethnic or religious identity, and then, through this process of identity rediscovery, become interested and invested in the conflicts happening in their countries of origin (Baumann, 1996). Similarly, the citizenship model (modalities of naturalisation, assimilation, and multiculturalism), the participation model (individual versus collective), as well as the potential access to resources for mobilisation and the existence of lobbies, partly determine the extent to which diaspora groups will mobilise along ethnic/religious/cultural lines reminiscent of divisions in their countries of origin. In European countries like the United Kingdom where the model of participation is collective, and/or which promote multiculturalism, it seems that ethnic entrepreneurs building on group identities are more likely to emerge (Mohammad-Arif and Moliner, 2007: §30), thus favouring a setting where core conflicts can be easily re-enacted or prolonged.

Of course, characteristics of diaspora groups themselves also have an impact on the occurrence and shape of conflict transportation. In particular, their degree of homogeneity or division, which can mirror or differ from divisions existing in home countries, may lead to a re-enactment of core conflict division lines, or to their disappearance if only one of the conflict parties has taken the road of exile. Similarly, temporal variables like generation, time of arrival in the country of settlement for first generations, or even age at the time of migration influence dramatically the propensity of diaspora members to engage in political activities related to their home country, alongside other factors such as whether or not they have had a first-hand experience of violence (Baser, 2013). Similarly, the size of diaspora groups can matter, especially if, as it is the case of the Kurdish and Turkish diasporas in Sweden, the home country minority (Kurds) becomes larger than the home country majority (Turks) in the diaspora setting. Small groups might choose to reinvest in their ‘ethnic’ specificities, as a means of differentiation vis-à-vis other diaspora groups and the majority community, but as we will see sometimes a gradual incorporation into larger groups can happen, on the basis of a shared language or religion. A lot depends also on the degree of structuring of diaspora groups, and in particular on the influence of diaspora organisations and the weight of ethnic or ‘norm’ entrepreneurs (Nomme and Weidmann, 2013). As shown by Mohammad-Arif and Moliner (2007: §37–45), these political entrepreneurs can choose to invest in conflict-related identities in order to foster support and mobilisation among diaspora members, particularly the ‘urban young males’ who are often the most mobilised – which also demonstrates the importance of gender dimensions in conflict transportation. Other characteristics of diaspora groups such as legal status also seem to play a role in conflict transportation, seemingly because it affects the diaspora members’ capacity to intervene publicly. Empirical evidence seems to suggest that having no legal status entails a radicalisation and a reactivation of pre-existing conflict identities and divisions. However access to legal status often varies a lot across diaspora groups, as shown for instance in the case of the members of the Rwandan diaspora, which is partly legal in status and partly illegal.

Finally, the fact that other exogenous factors can have an impact on conflict transportation processes has to be underscored. The fact that conflict-generated diasporas import, and cling on, to their countries of origin’s division lines depends also on international events and processes which can bear almost no direct relation to the conflict at hand. Dramatic events like the Iranian Revolution, 9/11, the US interventions that followed, wars occurring in various strategic locations like in the Middle East, but also in the Caucasus and elsewhere, give birth or strengthen divisions well beyond their vicinity. This was for instance shown by Moliner in the case of the Sikh diaspora (Moliner, 2007: §38).

All these factors interact in a very complex way to explain the features of conflict-generated diasporas’ politics, and call for an elaborate and detailed examination of conflict transportation processes, overcoming the ‘long distance nationalism’ versus ‘lack of integration’ explanation grids. For instance, comparing cases where conflict transportation does occur, alongside cases where, against all expectations, it does not occur, lies beyond the scope of this article, but would deserve serious research. Generally speaking, it is also of utmost importance to take into account the time factor when exploring the politics of conflict-generated diasporas: because diasporas are historical formations in process (Werbner, 2002), conflicts are not always transported immediately (see for instance the previously-mentioned late politicisation of the Kashmiri diaspora, or of the Sikh diaspora), and they can also evolve dramatically with time, especially while diaspora groups adapt to new norms and values, and/or experience changes in political and economic status. It is therefore particularly important and interesting to look at how perceptions of the ‘home conflict’ evolve in parallel with the adaptation to the norms and values of the society of settlement. Transported conflicts are thus usually characterised by their high instability, fluidity and multiplicity (Gayer, 2007). This characteristic is particularly obvious when comparing the situation of various diaspora groups across countries of settlement, for instance the relatively peaceful coexistence of Kurdish and Turkish diasporas in Sweden versus their multiple confrontations in Germany (Baser, 2013; Van Bruinessen, 1998). This extremely interesting example, among many others, highlights some of the limits of the concept of conflict transportation, which has sometimes been used as if conflict was transported in a uniform way across groups that can be experiencing extremely divergent conditions of living. Conflict is not simply transported in diaspora settings, it takes a life of its own, and it autonomises itself. This explains that diaspora groups may (re-)build their identities and oppositions around values, claims and issues that are not central in their countries of origin, and that might not be shared by all diaspora groups coming from the same region.

Neither here nor there: the autonomisation of conflict-generated diaspora politics

Incidents opposing rival diaspora groups are often interpreted like a prolongation or expansion of the conflict raging in their regions of origin, as if migration had not had an impact on the ways diasporas are carrying on the fight. Truth to be told, such interpretations are not entirely wrong, in the sense that transported conflicts often formally take the shape of core conflicts, emulate them by using the same language, symbols and ethnic/religious/linguistic categories, but the content of transported conflicts is often a distorted version of the ones they claim to be an extension of. If transported conflicts are closely related to core conflicts, they are also transformed by the migration process itself. As explained by Demmers (2002: 95): ‘Since diaspora communities are physically separated from the “core conflict” they are engaged in different contradiction-attitude-behaviour dynamics’. Conflicts are as much products of their environment as they shape it, thus the new diaspora setting has a strong influence on the shape and content of the transported conflict. In that sense, events in the country of origin often trigger reactions from diaspora groups in the countries of settlement, but the ways in which they react to these events are mediated by their new conditions of living.

From transported to autonomised conflicts

Simply put, a transported conflict can be said to be autonomised when its actors carry on using the categories and the language of the conflict raging in the country of origin, but are motivated by different underlying and current causes, such as a lack of social and economic integration in the country of settlement. What makes an autonomised conflict look like a purely transported conflict is that these underlying or current causes or issues are articulated in an ethnic, cultural, social or religious language using the same categories as the core conflict. In other words, the core conflict provides symbols, narratives and myths that are then used in a local context for (slightly or entirely) different reasons. All core conflict dimensions are henceforth read through a new analysis grid, mediated by the new context in the country of settlement, like for instance the socio-economic status of diaspora groups. More specifically, such changes can affect the way the communities’ borders are perceived and identified, often allowing for a more flexible understanding of conflict ‘sides’. This process can lead to a certain degree of homogenisation across diasporas: for instance, gangs of young South Asians in London are composed along religious lines, but not necessarily national ones (Baumann, 1996; see also Mohammad-Arif and Moliner, 2007: §42). In parallel, generational differences within diasporas can appear, as second and third generation diaspora members can react against their parents’ or grand-parents’ particular take on religious identity. For instance, as shown by Jocelyne Cesari (2007: 56), third or fourth generations of Muslims living in Europe have developed versions of Islam that are largely detached from the ethnic and national identifications of the first generations.

In parallel, the symbols, slogans, narratives, themes and myths that are put forward in transported conflicts are not necessarily those that are favoured in the country of origin, and the weight and coverage that diaspora organisations give to some cultural or political elements differs from what happens in home countries. Some symbols that are deemed very important in the core conflict become less important in the autonomised conflict, and vice versa. In the case of the Israel/Palestine conflict for instance, what figures prominently in discourses promoted by the Palestinian diaspora are the issues of the right of return, the status of Gaza, and the recognition of a Palestinian state.² While the issue of the recognition of a Palestinian state is certainly dominant in Palestine as well, political discourses and claims centre on other, often more specific, issues such as the new settlements, status of Jerusalem or access to the Al-Aqsa Mosque. What is also noticeable is the appearance of transnational themes in transported conflicts, and the use of international categories and language, which sometimes derive from the international profile of diaspora leaders themselves (Canefe, 2002: 67).

Ethnic entrepreneurs within diaspora communities play a key role in these shifts. As explained by Laurent Gayer, they are those who frame and structure diaspora politics, and they can play on a much wider range of themes than those available in countries of origin: ‘Ethnic entrepreneurs have a wide range of options to propose an “enemy” to their audience’ (Gayer, 2007: §2). These entrepreneurs, and their respective organizations, circulate, manipulate and maintain narratives that distribute roles of good, villain or ally to the actors with whom diaspora groups interact, which are not necessarily the home country’s political actors. Their ability to do so is enhanced when there are either loose or weak ties with organisations from the country of origin, which therefore cannot impose or pass on their framing and narratives to diaspora groups. This explains why fieldwork research has shown that while many diaspora organisations still use the core conflict categories (e.g. ethnic, religious, and political) in their discourses, their political objectives are more likely to be targeting the country of settlement or other national/international institutions, rather than their home country government. In many cases, instead of being ‘long distance nationalist’ organisations supporting the core conflict parties, or interested in the resolution of the core conflict, conflict-generated diaspora organisations dedicate most of their activities and resources to welfare, educational, charity-related, and cultural objectives in the countries of settlement (Féron, 2013). Even more surprisingly, sometimes diaspora organisations’ support spills over the borders of the concerned diaspora group, and some individuals involved in the autonomised conflict do not even belong to the concerned diaspora, but identify strongly with its ‘cause’, discourses and ideals. The Palestinian ‘cause’ is archetypical in that respect. One of the most interesting aspects of conflict autonomisation processes is therefore that being involved in a transported conflict does not ‘naturally’ derive from one’s belonging to a diaspora – involvement can for instance be triggered by global support networks uniting like-minded actors, or local supporting groups such as Muslim youths supporting pro-Palestinian movements in their fight against ‘Zionism’. These global networks of support often build specific discourses about the conflict, fit for awareness raising and fund-raising activities, but which are often quite different from the ways local conflict actors would frame their struggle – also quite out of step with their everyday experience.

Quite naturally, changes in mobilisation patterns are also observable, as the autonomised conflict invests different places or sites of expression. Diaspora mobilisation invests churches, newspapers’ forums, internet in addition to political arenas and streets, and so on (Brinkerhoff, 2009; Mohammad-Arif, 2007: §33–35). While it is quite logical that repertoires of action of the transported conflict differ from what is happening in the home country given the different political opportunity structures, it is very interesting to see that mobilised diaspora members also often have a different political, socio-economic and cultural profile as compared to the most mobilised sections of the home country population. One of the most fascinating changes occurs for instance when more liberal gender norms in countries of settlement allow women to become more active in the diaspora’s political activities (Al-Ali in Smith and Stares, 2007: 39–61).

To borrow from conflict analysis categories, we can say that the core conflict’s root causes are perpetuated in a diaspora setting through the maintenance of political, social and cultural divisions between diaspora groups. However, the autonomised conflict mostly focuses on different issues, and its escalation phases are often triggered by different factors or events. Triggering events can relate to important episodes happening in the country of origin (for instance, in the case of diasporas from India, the destruction in 1992 of the Babri Mosque in Ayodhya, see Mohammad-Arif, 2007: §28–31), which are interpreted in a different way by diaspora groups and by groups in the country of origin. It is worth mentioning that events in the country of settlement can also trigger an escalation of the autonomised conflict, like for instance a change in legislation, such as the ban on the Kurdistan Workers’ Party by Germany and France. Worth noting is also the fact that mobilisation of each conflict’s side might be triggered by different events. For instance, as explained by Baser (2013: 114), the Turkish diaspora in Sweden seems to mostly mobilise in reaction to Kurdish activities in Sweden, whereas the Kurdish diaspora seems to mostly react to events happening in Turkey. Like conflict transportation, processes of autonomisation and reinvention of conflicts in diaspora settings are neither mechanical nor automatic. They are triggered by various factors that determine both the occurrence and the specific characteristics of autonomisation processes.

Between loyalty and reinvention: the transformation of conflicts in diaspora settings

Peace and conflict studies have long established that conflicts are extremely malleable and changeable. It is therefore no wonder that they not only live on, but also transform and adapt to diaspora settings. Conflicts are also generous providers of myths, values, symbols, mobilisation triggers and frames for identification, which can be manipulated in countries of settlement by ethnic entrepreneurs, for their own purposes. Conflicts provide a cause, a purpose, and can serve as analysis frames, especially for second and third generation migrants, and their descendants. But beyond this adaptable nature of conflicts, why is it exactly that some core conflicts are imported and then reinvented in diaspora settings, while others are turned into folklore or forgotten? And how is it that the same core conflict gets transported and reinvented in some diaspora settings, and not in some others? Answering these questions requires taking a second look at the factors accounting for conflict transportation, as all of them have an impact on the occurrence, extent and characteristics of conflict autonomisation too.

The first of these factors, migration, generates not only geographical but also mental and cultural distance, as well as a certain degree of crystallisation of the main characteristics of the core conflict in the minds of migrants. This is one of the main assumptions of the ‘long distance nationalism’ paradigm: that diaspora groups’ vision of the core conflicts, because it is informed by specific events and divisions present at the time of migration, ceases to evolve afterwards (or so the paradigm goes), and gradually loses touch with the reality of the conflict on the ground (Anderson, 1992). With time and distance, diasporas increasingly put the focus on the main symbols, lines of cleavage, historical events, heroes and myths of the core conflict, overlooking details, nuances and dissenting voices. These common elements serve to reinforce the solidarity and unity of the diaspora group that is often pictured as being under threat because of migration itself. In that sense, radicalisation processes that can be observed in ‘long distance nationalisms’ stem both from the irresponsibility induced by physical distance, and from the need to maintain the culture and traditions of the group in a situation where it is put under considerable stress. Thus, the autonomised conflict often resembles a simplified form of the core conflict, retaining only its most salient characteristics. In parallel, a process of re-traditionalisation happens, putting the stress on what are seen as the central group values and symbols, and granting more importance to cultural or religious elements that are considered as pillars of the group’s identity. The fact that many diaspora groups give a nodal importance to religion in their renegotiated identities often leads to the misguided assumption that migration triggers radicalisation. But re-traditionalisation should not be equated with radicalisation, as it might target cultural elements that are not at the centre of the conflict in the home country, such as, for example, religion in the case of the Cypriot diasporas. For many diaspora groups, like for instance the Armenians (Tölölyan in Smith and Stares, 2007: 106–128), the importance of religion derives not only from its centrality in national identity back home, but also from the fact that it stands as a key distinguishing cultural element in societies of settlement, and possibly also vis-à-vis other diaspora groups.

Interestingly enough, the nature and content of relations between diasporas and their countries of origin also play a role in autonomisation processes, notably because the presence of tight organisational links with the sending country, through political parties, cultural or religious organisations, is likely to ensure that the core conflict remains at the top of the diasporas’ political agenda. Empirical observation indeed suggests that if such links are strong, then diaspora organisations’ language tends to stick to the home country’s official discourse, even if a large section of the concerned diaspora does not agree with such views (Canefe, 2002: 67–68). As explained above, rapid political changes in the country of origin are also not always taken stock of in the country of settlement, which entails a gradual disarticulation between the core conflict and the transported conflict. As Demmers (2002: 94–95) has put it, diaspora groups become therefore involved in a sort of ‘virtual conflict’, entailing no direct physical suffering, and whose dynamics differ importantly from what is happening in their home countries.

But the factors that explain autonomisation relate mostly to what happens in countries of settlement. Social factors in particular play an important role, because as we have already mentioned diaspora groups often face tough economic and social conditions upon their settlement. Feelings of ‘relative deprivation’, to borrow Gurr’s (1970) concept, might develop, especially when they are under the impression that the members of the ‘other’ group are better off. This might generate group competition, and further reinforce identity discourses built on pre-existing cleavages between groups. But the core conflict is only used as a reading and analysis grid insofar as the ‘other’ diaspora group can be used as a scapegoat for difficulties encountered here. Conversely, when a diaspora group manages to become more affluent, it will also frequently attempt to distance itself from other diaspora communities in the country of settlement, by putting the stress on its successful integration, and/or by overstating an exclusive aspect of its political or religious identity. The role played by the previously mentioned Vishwa Hindu Parishad for underscoring the differences between the Hindu diaspora and other South Asian groups is very telling in that respect.

In parallel, the need to ‘have a voice’ in the host society may lead to the blurring of differences between communities originating from the same region. Diaspora groups indeed often seem to state their belonging to a wider cultural group in order to be more easily identified and respected by wider society. This is for instance what happens for some sections of the Turkish Cypriot diaspora living in the United Kingdom, and identifying with Turks more generally, or with some sections of the Greek Cypriot diaspora identifying with Greeks more generally (Féron, 2013). As a consequence, elements such as ethnicity or place of birth, which are considered as key factors in the core conflict, are sometimes downplayed in a diaspora setting, thus considerably changing the way conflict is depicted. These changes do not necessarily entail a de-radicalisation, but seem to provoke shifts in how the core conflict is perceived.

In countries of settlement, diaspora communities are also exposed to a different cultural environment, which induces a progressive creolisation process whereby new cultural and political norms and values are gradually adopted, partly on purpose (in order to be heard and fit the country of settlement’s values frame), and partly unconsciously. Liberal gender roles promoted in some societies of settlement can for instance contradict traditional and patriarchal norms that are seen as core elements of national identity back home, as shown by Catarina Kinnvall in the case of Hindu nationalism (Kinnvall, 2016). According to Robin Cohen creolisation ‘centres on the cross-fertilisation between different cultures as they interact’ (Cohen, 2010: 71). While Robin Cohen opposes diasporic consciousness to creolisation, which he writes ‘tend in opposite directions, the one to a recovery of a past identity in reconstituting an old transnational link, the other to a severance of past identities in the interests of establishing a new cultural and social identity’ (Cohen, 2010: 73), there is good empirical ground to assume that creolisation increases with generational change across diaspora groups, alongside a wish to maintain ties with their countries of origin (Baser, 2013: 122). Creolisation does not induce a disappearance of diasporic identities, but the production of new cultural universes which fully belong neither to countries of origin, nor to countries of settlement. Diasporas are confronted to new political opportunity structures, interlocutors and potential allies like political parties and international organisations, and they also have to adjust to their new social, economic and political status in the society of settlement – including possibly adjusting from being a majority to a minority community. This logically induces an alteration of their discourses and ideologies, in order, for instance, to raise awareness on the situation in their home country, and for fund-raising. Diaspora actors, whether mobilising for peaceful or armed initiatives, actively construct representations putting forward their better selves in order to appeal to specific audiences. Discourses organised around the values of legality, of the rule of law, and of human rights are frequently used to appeal for international attention. The Kurdish diaspora has for instance strived to present a more pluralistic image, if only to comply with local regulations (Van Bruinessen, 1998: 9).

It is also important to recognise that because diaspora groups usually settle in democratic countries, they can (publicly) entertain choices that may not be available in their country of origin. For instance, some Turkish Cypriots living in London have publicly and repeatedly condemned the 1974 intervention of the Turkish Army in Cyprus, which would hardly be possible in the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (Féron, 2013). Similar processes have been observed by Sullivan in the case of the Iranian diaspora (Sullivan, 2001), or by Leggewie in the case of the Kurdish diaspora (Leggewie, 1996: 82). Such freedom of expression might allow for more radical, or more moderate, discourses than those that are held in their countries of origin. This can also lead to political divergences across ‘national diasporas’, as shown by Tölölyan in the case of Armenians settled in the US and Argentina (Tölölyan in Smith and Stares, 2007: 111).

Finally, environmental factors in countries of settlement also play a role in conflict autonomisation, for instance when diaspora members have left a rural setting to settle in a large industrialised city, where neighbourhoods are rarely ethnically, linguistically or religiously homogeneous. Here again, proximity may give birth to feelings of threat and thus to processes of identity reassertion, but it can also entail more cross-community contacts, thus helping to question pre-existing stereotypes and negative representations. In both cases however, urban environment is likely to provoke a change in the way conflict issues are perceived and expressed.

Characteristics of diaspora groups themselves might also entail conflict autonomisation, especially when the composition of diaspora groups does not reflect the home country’s make- up. In a diaspora setting, the respective weight of moderates versus radicals, of various religious, linguistic and ethnic groups, often does not reflect the situation in the country of origin. Differences might also appear in terms of socio-economic status, educational attainment, age and gender, among other key variables. These changes are then reflected and accounted for in the ways conflict is expressed and played out, in particular when the diaspora setting entails shifts in the “asymmetries of power” present in the home countries (Baser, 2013: 113). Class and caste divisions can in turn influence the way the transported conflict is played out. For instance, in the case of the previously mentioned example of the Sikh diaspora, upper castes such as the Jat Sikhs have mostly supported an independent Khalistan, whereas lower castes such as the Balmikis have been a lot less enthusiastic, as they did not see the movement as being favourable to them or their situation (Gunawardena, 2001).

Finally, conflict autonomisation might be triggered by exogenous factors or events, especially when these have a transnational resonance, such as the end of the Cold War or 9/11. Because they have had a dramatic impact on perceptions and political legitimacies, these events have changed the way in which diaspora groups could lobby in favour of or against conflict parties in their countries of origin. But they have sometimes also impacted diasporas’ perceptions and opinions themselves. The example of the impact of 9/11 on Sri Lankan or Irish diasporas is particularly interesting in that respect (Cochrane et al., 2009).

Avenues for future research

Rhetoric and symbols used by conflict-generated diasporas often seem to confirm the view that they are more interested in what is happening ‘over there’ than in the politics of their countries of settlement. While some diaspora groups certainly maintain strong links with their countries of origin, and cultivate their cultural, political and religious differences, such references should not be veiling the fact that diasporas originating from conflict zones do not simply ‘transport’ conflicts from home. Core conflicts undergo an adaptation process that significantly changes the meaning and scope of the discourses, symbols, and instances of mobilisation around which they take shape in countries of origin. But because it is mostly the same categorisations that are being used, and the same vocabulary and symbols that are being conveyed, it is easy to believe that the stakes, and actors’ interests, remain unchanged. What the study of conflict-generated diasporas’ politics also suggests is that when radicalisation happens, it is in a non-linear or mechanical way. Both endogenous factors such as socio-economic deprivation sometimes faced in countries of settlement, and exogenous factors such as escalating events occurring in the home country, can precipitate diasporas’ political mobilisation.

Recognising that conflict-generated diasporas’ preferences, opinions and language with regards to conflicts raging in their countries of origin might dramatically evolve, and/or be re-invented in their respective countries of settlement is by no means a negation of the maintenance of a diaspora consciousness, and of the existence of a commitment towards the ‘homeland’. Examining autonomisation and reinvention processes is what allows us to account for the time factor that is often missing in diaspora studies where diasporas are often analysed as crystallised and unmoving objects. Embracing the historical but also context-dependent quality of conflict-generated diasporas, as situated and acting in a transnational space that is neither entirely here nor fully there, provides a useful framework for better analysing and understanding their internal politics in their respective countries of settlement.

Footnotes

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Notes

Author biography

Élise Féron (PhD, Docent) is a university researcher at the Tampere Peace Research Institute (Finland), where she lectures on Transnational Dynamics of Conflicts. Her research deals with conflict-generated diaspora politics, and with gender and conflicts dynamics.

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